was overpowered vith emotion, and seemed to be weeping bitterly. He looked intently on the pallid and sorrowful features of the boy; the impulse of sorrow-a sort of natural instinct, came to a id his recollection, and as the boy reclined on his dying bed., Muriotti uttered a faint cry of mingled surprise and joy.

66

My Zoé! my own Zoé! once again before I die!"

Heaven be praised, I see thee He extended his feeble hands towards his desolate love; she took them and bathed them in her tears, but she could not speak. In a trance of grief they remained unconscious of every thing around them. Meantime death was hastening to secure his victim. His eyes grew dim-his lips became colourless-the power of utterance seemed to have deserted him; but with great exertion he suminoned the failing energies of his departing soul, and in a trembling voice said—

"Heaven bless thee, my own Zoé! despair not, look to the mercies of God. I die for my country; let this conviction soften the poignancy of your grief. We shall soon meet again in a better world, never more to separate. Adieu, my beloved! my betrothed, adieu!" He ceased, a slight tremor shook his frame, and the next moment he breathed his last.

Zoé felt with terror that she clasped a corpse within her arms, but her love and woe overpowered all her fears— she uttered a deep sigh-one low cry of agony, and laying her head on her lover's breast, she wept herself into a gentle slumber, apparently as soft as that of him she embraced. From that quiet slumber she never more awoke.

AN ADIEU.

An adieu should in utterance die,

Or, if written, should faintly appear—
Should be heard in the sob of a sigh,
Or be seen in the blot of a tear.

ROTTERDAM,

The birth-place of the celebrated Erasmus, and one of the principal cities of the Netherlands. It is much frequented by travellers, and admired for the regularity and grandeur of the houses, the splendour of the shops, the neatness of the streets, the crowds on the foot-paths, the rows of trees, the broad canals, the forests of masts of large vessels, and other objects that attract attention. The accompanying view of the sluice-house presents a general idea of the picturesque character of the buildings, and the animation that was observant on the canals. It is situated thirty-seven miles south of Amsterdam, and is second in commercial importance to the capital.

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

BY P. J. MEAGHER, AUTHOR OF ZEDECHIAS."

Oh! why does sadness still surround thee,
When thou, my soul, art free as air?
Or if perchance a chain hath bound thee,
That chain was wreath'd by fingers fair.
Thou'rt like the plundered Bulbul, keeping
Her sleepless watchfire all night long,
To soothe her prison'd young with weeping,
What her fond heart may deem a song.

When I'll not say whose love may bless thee,
Wilt thou, my heart, thus dream of ill?
And why, when Hope's gay garlands dress thee,
Hast thou a right to murmur still?
Oh! they are like the perfumes streaming
Along the silent couch of death;
All fresh the flower above is gleaming,

But coldly lies decay beneath.

Oh! why doth sorrow cling about thee,
My lyre, instead of other tones!
I'd rather quaff my bowl without thee,

Then wake for-aye, those endless moans-
Yet, no! thou'rt like the wild lute wreathing,
At midnight, its melodious chain,
That, whatsoever mind is breathing,
It wakes the same unearthly strain !

SIR ROGER DE CALVERLEY'S GHOST.

In our last volume we gave a plate illustrative of the story of "Sir Roger de Calverley ;" and the vignette to our present volume illustrates the interesting fiction, in which all that relates to the knight and his ghost is merely episodical.

The principal incidents of the tale are these: At the commencement of the civil wars the domain of Calverley was in the possession of Sir Edward Vavasour, and this cavalier, being engaged on the King's side, was grievously wounded at the fatal battle of Marston Moor, and must have perished, were it not for the active friendship of the celebrated Sir William D'Avenant, who, from having been in the "piping times of peace" merely an idle courtier and poet, had now become a soldier of some renown. With great zeal and much risk, Sir William succeeded in escaping with his wounded friend from the field of battle; and as their retreat to York was cut off by the enemy, they proceeded with all possible expedition to Calverley House, where Sir Edward's wife, the Lady Margaret, and his mother, the old Lady Vavasour, still resided. Within about five miles of Sir Edward's domain they overtook a 66 worthy servant of the Lord," Ananias Fats. The godly minister was on his way to Calverley, for the purpose of converting, and sojourning for some time with the Lady